


Beneath the Blue, the Eyes of a Tide

by Krill (Yanzoo), Rainbowbesa



Category: League of Legends
Genre: Bilgewater - Freeform, Bioluminescence, Blood, Bloodharbor, Canon Divergence, Canon Divergence - League of Legends, Deserted Isle, Distressing Castaway Situation, F/M, Magic, Marai - Freeform, Monster Hunters, Not Canon Compliant, Pre-Death Pyke, Sea Monsters, Vastaya, castaway, deserted island
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-13
Updated: 2021-03-16
Packaged: 2021-03-21 09:54:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,897
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30019971
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Yanzoo/pseuds/Krill, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rainbowbesa/pseuds/Rainbowbesa
Summary: Pyke's first expedition goes horribly wrong, as he is left castaway in an unknown yet magical island. With the help of a mysterious figure he might just be able to survive it.
Relationships: Nami/Pyke (League of Legends)
Kudos: 6





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Mostly planned out, still not finished, prolly gonna post the next chapter in a few days. Who knows what then? Oh well. Anyways. Commissioned by Rainbowbesa. Here's her twitter: https://twitter.com/Rainbowbesa  
> Here's my linktree btw: https://linktr.ee/KrilltheKill  
> tootles

With a swift motion of his arm he cut open the belly of a four-eyed hammerhead shark, taking out the organs and meat with a mastery required of every butcher in bloodharbor, even for the meager pay, at least with a few more bronze coins at the end of the day Pyke could serve himself a cup of rum or two. Rum, bitter as hell and burns when you swallow it, but it's cheap as dirt and doesn't weigh much on the tab the next day when you have a headache. Memories resurfaced of family life, rum usually was a big part of it, and never that good, been kinda slumped on that kind of life because of it. 

He heard a slight commotion close to the harbor, looking over as he let his muscle memory take over his task. The huge hunting ship was closing in, trudging through the red waters until it hit the transporting area. As the jaul-fish was hauled into the slaughter docks, Pyke saw the harpooners together with the captain, as the boss of his slaughterhouse handed them purses full of golden krakens. Pyke’s eyes went green with envy and determination. He had enough of this wretched life, he knew he deserved better just by the nature of how hard he worked, how much more productive he was at his job, how much he knew from memory every part, every little nook and cranny of inside any sea monster. All that for what? Some extra coin to drown his sorrow at the end of the day? No more. When his boss came back to the slaughterhouse, Pyke managed to sneak towards the captain and his crew, with a daring smile and his bone shiv still in hand.

“Ain’tcha but a cutfisher? Why I’da let ye into my fine crew?” The captain asked, after a few moments of sweet talking. He had a trickster smile on his face, almost in disbelief such a lowlife would even approach him.

Other harpooners were close, looking at him as if he was a clown, smiles and laughs as if they were enjoying a day at the circus. Pyke looked at them back for a moment, and the shine on his eyes was enough to make most of them slump back into their closed expressions, others even with a slight shiver at their spine. He didn’t come here to be made fun of, and their smiles only made him want to shut them down and show them exactly what he was made of.

“Ever had a butcher as a harpooner before?” He asked “I’m asking for a chance, only that, and I promise this one will be a lot more lucrative than any other”

“Ye swear on yer honour?” The captain asked, a bit less sure of his own clownish smile.

With a motion of his shiv on top of his chest, right over his heart, he made an S motion on top of his skin, careful enough not to cut it.

“Or a golden Kraken from me” He answered with a wild smile on his face.

“Good enuff. Come in”

He smiled, only giving a quick glance back to the slaughterhouse before heading with the captain and the other harpooners into the ship, giving them a wild look whilst they stared unsure at him.

* * *

Thunder, roar, the many eyes of the sea-serpent all stared at Pyke, shiv in hand, stabbed on the face of the monster as he was violently whipped around, submerging and emerging back into the surface, salt water burning his eyes but he dared not close them, even as the rain lashed against his skin like thousands of daggers. He knew his gamble went wrong as soon as the ropes snapped, and the monster swam away with the harpooner still on top, but it did not matter, he was not dying before he was done killing this beast. He held himself into the barbs and the scales, as he slided around the serpent, cutting and wounding it as much as he could, getting more and more exhausted as the monster whipped and screamed, ever more angry, trying to make Pyke fall from itself, or drown as it dove deeper and deeper into the ocean.

At the end Pyke was left adrift down at the deeps fighting for his life as he held onto the carcass of his hunt, his blood pouring into the salty sea as much as the salt poured into his eyes and made his vision blurry, he still dared not to close them as he looked triumphantly at the slain beast that drifted at his side. He still gave some effort, holding tight to the shiv lodged at the beast’s carcass, trying to pull up even as the underwater currents whipped him around violently. His throat was closing, aching just as his lungs, screaming for air as they were already invaded by the water. He saw many things in that chaos, and he saw a distant light, blue and tranquil. Was that death? Was he supposed to follow it? He stared at it, pain and all, until he saw a fin, too big to be of a simple fish. With his last strength he took his shiv out the monster and waited for the creature to approach. If he was to die, he was bringing one more down with him. He stabbed and felt a whack at the side of his head right afterwards.

Teeth, it's all he could see, floating in the middle of a sea so salty it made him thirsty, the teeth moved like sea serpents, all seemingly connected in an infinite chain that layered up on itself, moving, covering and uncovering itself, an infinity way beyond comprehension. Then eyes, eyes of a crowd of harpooners, eyes of a captain as they saw him get carried away, terrified eyes. Had he proven them wrong? Had he shown his worth? Would they ever remember the lowly butcher carried away by the sea?

When he came to, the tranquil sound of the waves and the sensation of the sand against his back and limbs was the first thing he noticed. The sky was blue and mit ostly clear and at his side the slain sea-serpent laid. He touched his wounds, ready to find still open, but instead algae covered them, sea plants of a very smooth texture. He felt hungry, but that should be normal after almost drowning, he thought, his eyes quickly gazed around, first seeing the serpent, the confusion starting to settle in, taking his eyes off of the beast he looked out at sea and saw someone staring back at him, only a blur and a shadow where he couldn’t really make out a shape, eyes, red and black sclera. The figure disappeared into the ocean, a whale fin diving behind it. Pyke rubbed his salt soaked eyes, even more confused and dazed, but at last figuring it was just tricks of the mind and of the sea, wondering just what the hell had saved him.

He pushed those thoughts away. Blessed be by the serpent god, whoever had saved him, but now he had more pressing matters at hand. He stood up, feeling the sting of his wounds still paining him, but not as bad as when the salt whipped them as he swam. He was rusty, feeling his bones ache and beg for him to rest. First he needed to find water, for his food was lying on the sand next to him. He didn’t know how long it would take for someone to find him, so he was not going to take any chances. That look in his eyes returned, the same look he gave the captain before, of a stubborn resolve ready to prove even mother nature wrong.

He walked towards the tropical woods not at all far from the beach, following a small mire until he found a river of clean and clear water, having to control himself not to slam his face against rocks just beneath the stream and drink like a thirsty pup, instead holding the water on his hand and drinking patiently, feeling the cool water soothe his throat, making it feel a bit less like thousands of needles piercing it.

While that was solved, he was not going to eat raw meat, so he passed a few minutes collecting all the sticks he could find around the forest floor, going back to the beach to deposit them close to the serpent and then coming back just to catch a few rocks. He dug a hole with his shiv and hands, and started the bonfire with a stripped down stick and some dried up foliage. At the end of the process he had his little fire and enough wood for the night.

He cleaned his knife at the sea, keeping it wet as he opened up his hunt to grab a few pieces of the meat to cook in the open fire. Sea serpents were still pink meated fish, salty and still not as hearty as a red meat beast, but for the kind of hunger he had he could eat slump soaked mire crabs and he wouldn’t complain.

He munched down on his lunch while looking back at the sea, wondering still what did just save him? Well, regardless, now he had a lot of time to burn, the gears inside his brain already starting to work on exactly what to occupy that time with.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pyke's struggles and dreams, the magic starts to appear.

Pyke woke up to the cold of midnight, trembling. He quickly stood up with a grunt as he felt the ache of his wounds still bothering him somewhat, but he still stood up and walked over to the woods again, getting some more sticks to fuel the bonfire. When back at his little camp he fished around for some charcoal, laying it more evenly on the base of the pit and giving space for all the new wood, then doing the whole process to lit it once more.

He thought he wouldn’t be able to sleep again, looking out at the vast sea beyond at night, reflecting all the stars in a beautiful light collage. His eyes glazed through what seemed like an infinite void, the island he sat on nothing more than a piece of land floating at the precipice of space. In that moment he wondered whether or not he would ever be rescued. It had only been a day, he knew, but the doubt already crept up his spine and planted itself firmly on his head, only soothed by the gorgeous vista that splayed beyond his sight.

The stars danced and danced a bit more, a daze of white and yellow and blue, all colours of space reflected in pyke’s eyes, they formed pictures, smells, sensations, pyke raised his hand to touch them but they were so far away. He saw the bloodharbor, his grandmother’s rugged touch and sweet voice as she sung him a lullaby, burying all of the bad things his parents had said to him through the day, all the screaming, all the rum, she would always bury it deep beneath with her songs. He saw her face on the stars, her kind smile, how she kissed Pyke’s forehead. Why now? It had been so long since he last remembered her truly, when all of this surfaced.

All of those memories buried deep beneath the harbor, all the anger all the hate. Redder than the waters he called his working place, bloodier than any butcher. The stars turned, creating a key that rose from the sea of stars. He reached it and wondered what it was for, feeling the stars warm to his touch. Grandma returned and she beckoned him closer, calling him to the water, and he followed her fingers towards the sea, touching into starlight instead of the ocean, his bare feet walking on a stairwell made of constellations, key still in hand, grandma still at his side, beckoning closer towards a door, swung right open, screaming coming from the other side.

“Close it my son” Grandma said “You’re tired already, you need rest, you don’t need to see this”

Pyke stepped closer and shut the door, locking it with the key, the screaming ceased. “You’re right, grandma” He answered with his raspy voice “I don’t need to deal with this bullshit”

He woke up with the sun beaming on his face. He covered his eyes looking over to see the sun barely rising out of the ocean. He sighed and stood up, still aching and grunting. Now he definitely wasn’t going back to sleep. He was about to get ready to take a nice piece out of the leviathan at his side on the beach for breakfast when he noticed a little package of seaweed lying just right of the bonfire. Pyke looked at it then cleaned his eyes out of the night’s sand and regular sand, then looked again and it was still there. He reached it and opened it up. Raw fish, served with some interesting looking vegetables. Pyke mindlessly took a bite out of one of them, his guard still down from the sleepiness, and before he could spit he noticed how good it tasted, and as such finished eating, the new tastes giving his taste buds quite the new sensations to get lost in and distracting him a bit of the little stings of pain his wounds would give him with every move of a muscle.

No note, no marks on the sand indicating who might have left that gift. Pyke looked over everything, wondering just what the hell was going on. At the end he had to shrug and let it be, he had better things to do. First off, start making an improvised shelter. He had been lucky that there wasn’t any rain last night, a luck he didn’t want to count on for any other night. He rushed back to the woods, not forgetting to take long and refreshing sips from the small waterway before grabbing all what he needed to start working on a small thing he could shade himself with, be it from rain or from the sun. 

He quickly found out his puny shiv would not be good enough to cut down the thicker tree trunks in any reasonable time, deciding then to start working on an improvised stone axe to help him out on that endeavour. Grabbing two rocks and beating one of them until it was a manageable shape, then using a larger, coarser rock as a way to file in the edge. He cut down a thinner tree with his shiv and a thick piece of driftwood and started working on the handle, cutting a good opening for the axehead and smoothing and widening it with a few pieces of red hot charcoal. He had to frequently pause whilst doing such a physically intensive task, feeling the wounds beneath the dried up seaweed starting to flare and pulse with pain, but as soon as he had a good break he went back at it with the same single mindedness. Putting the axe together was easy compared to how much effort just to file the axehead, after a good few hours on that process he took a small break to go eat a bit more of his prized hunt and some good rest for his aching. He looked at the sea serpent as he ate its flesh, cozied up in the warmth of the bonfire, thinking it would definitely not last out in the sun and wind like that, as he already saw a lot of mosquitoes flocking to the salty carcass.

First things first: the shelter. He cut a good bunch of trees - a process just as painful as simply making the axe, but at least it wouldn’t take forever with just but a puny shiv - and made a simple frame by cutting the edges so the trunks would fit with each other snuggly, grabbing a bunch of palm tree leaves to create as solid a roof and floor as he could. When done it was a very modest castaway cover but it was firmly planted on the ground, with the supports well buried in the sand. He laid on the palm trees to get a feel for his new bed, not the most comfortable surface out there but still a lot better than sand and the hardwood of a ship’s quarters.

There was still some light out, and he didn’t feel all that hungry still, so he decided to go into the woods once more with his axe and cut a few more thinner trees, not so painful as cutting the larger trees for his hideout. Coming back with a bit more wood to work with, he did a similar structure to the last, but this time more interconnected, straighter and complex, a good stand to dry meat on. After finishing the drying platform, standing a good few inches above his head. He then went back to his prize and started cutting it open once more, in larger chunks that could be more easily hung to his structure. It was a hassle putting all the meat up there with all of the flies pestering him and prickling at his wounds. Amidst that however he noticed something odd about them, his eyes focusing on the little things and really noticing their form. They seemed fluffier, brighter than any flat bloodharbor fly. In a craze fueled instant he extended his finger towards it, as if wanting to touch it, and the fly simply landed in his fingernail and looked at him, eyes reflecting stars not yet on the sky, a very light buzzing that made his brain tingle just a bit. It flew away peacefully as Pyke kept looking in a bit of awe. Was he daydreaming now? Probably just some weird species of fly, Pyke figured. Can’t get distracted now.

That night the moon was full, mirrored by the calm ocean, but it was still bright enough to see where the sea began and where the sky ended. It wasn’t much more than a fine line at the horizon, with a very soft glow emanating at the end, as well as the very slight perturbations on the water that made the figures reflected have a visible sway, mostly clear on the moon itself. Pyke was tucked away in his shelter, fire crackling calmly next to him and giving him just enough warmth, and without the wind to pester him it felt relatively cozy. All of his wounds aching badly, only now that he had time to rest had he noticed just how much worse he was feeling now. But he had things to do, he had to focus on his survival, and couldn’t let the day waste without bettering his lot. At least today was a productive day, he thought right before he closed his eyes.

He dreamt of the ocean, the turbulent underwater currents that pushed him and his prize deeper and deeper inside Mother Kraken’s embrace, he dreamt of a wavy darkness pierced only slightly by the moonlight, a blurry image as his eyes burned with the seasalt. He dreamt of being a kid in bilgewater, with his grandmother at the beach, it was rare that they had free time, always working day in and day out. She would just sit on the sand dunes and watch as pyke ran around happily and played with himself and the crashing waves at the shore. And when he was tired and giggly back at her arms she would sing him a lullaby with stories of harpooners and sea captains. She was in the middle of telling one of them when she stopped with a gag. Pyke stood up to see what was wrong, words getting caught in his throat as if he was underwater. He looked down to see a knife stabbed through nana’s ribs. He wanted to scream, wanted to run for help, but his legs wouldn’t obey him. “Wake up… It hurts” grandma said “Please”.

Pyke woke up in a jolt, sweating and hyperventilating, then laying back down again with a painful grunt when he felt like a blade entered his stomach. He looked down to the once dry algae now soaked in blood that served as a patch for his wounds. Blood was dripping out of the one covering his abdomen. He grinded his teeth and laid his head back on the palm bed. How the fuck was he going to get out of this one now? Well alright, he thought, he had meat, he had a cover, and maybe he could still stand up and grab some low lying branches. He rolled onto his face and tried getting up without moving much of his torso, but the effort was enough to send waves of pain all throughout his body. He laid back down, his body paralized by just how terrible the pain was, he closed his eyes and sighed deeply, racking his brain to come up with  _ something _ to get him out of this situation. Nothing. Nothing! Nothing came to mind, the pain always taking him out of his concentration. Was it worsening? Did he make it worse? He started to panic a bit, still sweating and breathing hard, eyes tightly shut. He stood on that state for what felt like hours, fingers scratching against the palms, wave after wave of pain, the hot blood slowly dripping and mixing with the salty cold sweat that covered his skin, burning his wounds even worse and making him wince with every drop, not daring to open his eyes as he simply stayed there, dehydrated and hurt like a stray dog in a bloodharbor alley.

Amidst the darkness he saw shapes like stars, and heard sounds he wasn’t used to, his eyes didn’t want to open and he drifted further and farther away, the pain in his stomach slowly fading until he couldn’t feel himself anymore, numb to the pain, swimming once more in the ocean, an ocean of stars. He wasn’t drowning, or maybe he just couldn’t notice it, but he felt the drag making him sink. Towards where? Where was he anyways? Beneath the floating island of his dreams? He couldn’t look around, neck locked in place, surrounded by the shining ocean, drifting. Further down… Going under the world. He didn’t see anything but felt a tug on his arm, pulling him up, up and up. 

When he came to he was still soaked in sweat, and his body ached like there was no tomorrow, with a new sensation right where he remembered his wounds were. Burning. He was able to stand up, he was still in his little shelter, another mysterious present from the undersea, packaged raw fish and some algae, just as it was the day before. Curious but he quickly returned his focus to his own body, noticing the algae patches were new and still humid, and beneath them weren’t just bleeding wounds, but some kind of cream, like whale fat that was plastered against his skin. He kept laid on the makeshift bed, looking over to the firepit and noticing new wood there too. It was beyond any doubt now that someone or  _ something  _ was caring for him. He could only wonder who.


End file.
